


Rational Desdemona

by nonky



Category: Nancy Drew (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 02:02:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21366340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonky/pseuds/nonky
Summary: He was awash in Nancy Drew, her pretty self twice as attractive with every moment she proved she really did want justice. He supposed she'd technically faced Tiffany in a roundabout way during George's possession. Nick resisted dwelling on the confusion in the few words she'd managed to exchange with him. He used to get up and pace when he couldn't sleep, but he didn't want to leave Nancy's bed.Spoilers for episode five.
Relationships: Nancy Drew/Ned Nickerson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7
Collections: Nancy Drew TV Series (2019)





	Rational Desdemona

Nick felt like a moody shadow next to his girlfriend's slumber surrounded by the bright artifacts of her childhood.

He was in her bed, his mostly naked body on soft pink sheets definitely bought long before she could be called a woman. It was a different intimacy to her staying in his bed because she'd fought with her father. It was sort of like being asked over to a sleepover in a museum about her inner self. There were thousands of fascinating exhibits to help him know her, and he had to downplay that urge.

She would hunt murderers and wander after ghosts, but too much of his heartfelt interest petrified her.

Nick wasn't sure how it had happened. He'd known Carson Drew was out of town for a few days, but he'd also thought Bess was staying with Nancy and sleeping in her room. He had expected to be missing her at night, at least until her house guest was back at the Marvin's mansion. He hadn't been afraid when Laura broke into the garage. He never believed she was going to hurt him. She'd known Tiffany had been his friend. There was no reason for him to sleep elsewhere, and more than a few considerations if he was inclined to ask for an invite to Nancy's.

The cringe factor of having to flee from his former lawyer's daughter's bedroom if they overslept had formed like a very jarring and detailed mental image, or maybe a painting based on Othello he'd seen once.

He liked Bess, but they didn't really have any conversations that weren't speculation about the mysteries around them. She was usually around a lot, and that was cool. Asking her to find another place for the night felt overly familiar, though. He even liked Ace and George, though their preoccupations and biases were starting to creep in to make certain questions feel more personal than was practical if they all really wanted to solve Tiffany's murder. 

Nick thought he could probably ask to couch surf with Ace if he'd needed to, but he wasn't quite used to having friends as opposed to cellmates.There were some loyalties butting heads with all of them knowing all of the people they had to look on with suspicion.

He wanted them to be a group of friends, but it was too early to test it with more commonplace favours. He also didn't want to look pushy to Nancy, or insensitive to Bess. All five of them on their best friendly terms didn't make them a team.

First impressions he made never went well, but second chances were sacred to him. He watched Nancy smile at Owen Marvin, and he didn't interrupt. She was up to something, and he was giving her credit for being too sophisticated for it to be two-timing him. 

Nick should have gone home with the flash drive and read all night, but he'd answered his phone to Nancy's call. She was at home, alone, and something weird had played from an old movie she'd found digging up her old school. He was relieved whatever she'd wanted from Owen it hadn't been a date.

When his girl seemed to be ignoring him, at least she was doing something novel with her time. It would hurt his feelings if she just liked phone apps too much. Nick walked over. If he spent the night, he didn't mind the walk in the morning. He didn't want to get the neighbours talking, or Detective Hart tipping off Nancy's father so he could return early.

He'd arrived at the same time as a pizza delivery, and been shooed away from paying as Nancy slapped his hand with a little wallet stamped with golden hearts. He'd chuckled to himself at the idea of somehow finding himself a girlfriend the same time he became a millionaire, and having her pay for dinner with waitressing money. Nancy was too capable to ever think of getting money from being a rich man's wife. 

He didn't know what they had, or a name to give it that wouldn't make her pretty face give that silently apologetic rejection. Nick didn't want her feeling bad she didn't love him. He didn't love her, but he was having some pretty deep musings about the possibilities. He was constantly surprised how attached he was to her company. 

She sat him at the kitchen island and played hostess beautifully. He let Nancy distract them both with chatter about summer movies and a road trip before winter. As summer residents left, George would be able to give her a week off. She had some favourite sightseeing routes she wanted him to see. 

"That sounds really nice," Nick told her softly. "But you were freaked out when you called me. I don't think the fall leaves get you that amped up your voice trembles."

She sighed, and drew in the condensation of her glass. "Horseshoe Bay has more than one unsolved murder of a woman. I didn't mean to start investigating Lucy's murder, but clues keep signalling me."

He helped her as she cleaned up dishes and wedged the pizza box in the fridge. Nick didn't think they needed to be making the police chief even more aggravated. He needed to know he'd pushed for justice for Tiffany. He wasn't offended on her behalf, but Lucy Sable had been dead as long as Nancy had been alive. He didn't get the connection that made it a priority alongside a recent murder.

"Clues keep signalling you," he asked. "Like people are tipping you off to things anonymously?"

"No. I was home one night and I heard a noise. I walked into the hallway and the attic stairs swung down like I was being guided up. So I went and it was just attic junk. No one was there. But as I was looking around anyway, I know I heard the wallpaper rip. I found the edge and I pulled it, and the whole Lucy rhyme was carved into the walls. It might have been kids . . . except I'm the only kid who has lived in this house since she died."

He couldn't explain that, but it also didn't feel like much to go on. That rhyme, cruel as it was to the poor girl and her family, was so common it was on mugs in the local tourist traps. She'd become part of the town marketing strategy. Every small coastal town seemed to have a pretty young woman who'd died falling into the ocean, and a story about her apparition wandering the night. 

"Maybe it was teenagers. Someone had to make up the song in the first place, and start the ghost story. I can see a thoughtless high school kid carving it into a wall before they moved. It might have been a prank to get the next homeowners. Was there anything else in the attic?"

"I -" Nancy tipped her head back, her cheeks colouring with something like anger or frustration. "It's so full of stuff, I didn't find anything that I knew I could use. But it happened more times that that, flashes of seeing a drowned girl in a long dress when I was in danger. I keep following flickering lights and ending up finding a photo or a recording. It's too much to be nothing."

He bit his lip. She wasn't being clear, which meant there was more to say. Nick took a moment to phrase his reply. "First, I believe you. You're not going to think ghost the first time you hear a creak," he said. "Second, and don't take this the wrong way, do you think anyone can solve a nineteen year old death and actually get justice based on clues from what seems like a ghost?"

The town was small, and the girl was pretty and popular or she never would have been Sea Queen. Finding old photos and recordings of former students wasn't odd, and Lucy had become part of town lore. People would keep souvenirs of their high school days with her as morbid trophies of knowing Dead Lucy. 

"I don't know if I can get an arrest," she murmured. "I don't know if I even know how to solve a murder. I feel like I have to try. There's a connection I can point to now. The school buried a time capsule from 1999, and I watched a video they included of school events. There's a scene of Lucy Sable and Ryan Hudson. They're talking, and it looks like flirting. It's the kind of thing the police would say is coincidence. They're also the ones who haven't bothered to solve her murder in decades. If Tiffany's death was still unsolved twenty years from now, wouldn't you want someone trying?"

Nick put his hand out and she went to him tentatively. He looked into her eyes and made sure to let her see he was sincere. "I would want justice whenever it came, but not at the cost of something bad happening to you. Getting locked up is terrible. Nothing is worth that for you," he told her. "Tiffany and Lucy can't come back if we prove who killed them. Your life is not worth risking for closure."

"I'm not afraid of that. My Dad -" 

"Is a good lawyer and I know he loves you more than anyone. But you keep forgetting they caught you breaking into the morgue. You are guilty of what they want to charge you for doing, and intentions don't make a difference why you were there. You have to present yourself in a way that doesn't threaten people, so they can give you a lesser charge. Maybe you should have taken the deal to help investigate me. This is very serious."

Her eyes shut and she seemed pained. Nancy put her fingertips to his chin and shook her head. "I wouldn't feel right not doing something, Nick. What if she really is asking for help? What if it has to be me?"

He didn't want to ask her to be a different person. She had an unspoiled hope even grief for her mother couldn't tarnish. Nancy wanted to believe her brain could solve any situation, and people would be grateful. Nick's story was a direct contradiction of that idea. He'd been honest, cooperative, and ruined by those virtues. 

"What are you going to be able to do for anyone if you're locked up?"

He saw a crack in her confidence, and knew he'd scared her. She had a chance to save herself if she could pretend to be an average teenager who'd panicked in a stressful situation. Nancy could get a lot of sympathy from the locals who knew her mother had died from cancer recently. She was someone people would want to give a pass, if she could allow them to underestimate her sharp mind.

Her deflated energy made him feel guilty, but she should be worrying about her life instead of unexplained town deaths. Nick put his hand on her cheek. 

"I can look at the video if you want, and second your identification of Ryan," he told her.

Nancy's grateful hug was humbling, and she was right. Ryan Hudson had known Horseshoe Bay's 1999 Sea Queen. The video was not helpful for anything else he could see, and the dialogue of that scene was silenced for some pop music montage effect. 

"It doesn't mean anything yet," Nancy told him. "I know this just feels like a distraction from Tiffany. But the slivers of the truth will start to add up."

"It is him. You know you can't walk up to him and just ask about this, right? If he hurt Lucy, he's gotten away with it for nineteen years," Nick said. "You don't want him knowing you're interested in his past."

She nodded. "I can work around him for now. Can you stay over? My Dad won't be back and Bess said not to wait up. I think she had a date."

The invitation shouldn't have been so flattering, but Nancy liked to have a buffer of separation around the outpost of her inner thoughts. She was gradually letting him scale the wall with casual affection.

"Yeah. I have to leave early in the morning, but that's probably for the best," he told her. "Wouldn't want to be starting my walk of shame just as your father pulls up in the driveway."

"There's no shame," she giggled. 

"There's not going to be a father, daughter and ex-con brunch, either," Nick said. "No offense to your father, but I really don't want him to know I was here overnight."

He declined pajamas, but took a new toothbrush and the first turn in the bathroom. Nick walked around her room trying to align the stuffed animals and trinkets with the pragmatic woman he was beginning to know well.

There was an awkward pause when it came time to get into bed, but he gestured for her to take her spot. "Ladies first. I'll take the other side."

"I usually have the whole thing," Nancy said. "But we'll just make room."

She felt soft and well-matched, her curves settled down to his weight as he joined her. Nick adjusted his phone alarm to ridiculously early, and put it on the nightstand. His bare leg was chilled by her cold foot, but he didn't move away. She had folded all the blankets to hang off the foot of the bed, taking just the sheet for a covering.

"Goodnight," she sighed. "Thank you for staying."

He kissed her, very briefly. It was still weird being in the home that had formed her fast mind and understated tastes. He wasn't sure he'd be able to sleep well, but he was glad she'd been okay asking him. 

"Thanks for asking me," he said. "Sweet dreams. Give that grey matter a rest."

He used the dim light from the hall to drift his eyes around the shelves of photos and old toys. One day he might know every object and its value. He might be comfortable helping himself to a book if he couldn't sleep immediately. Nick wasn't as good at feeling at home as he'd been before prison.

He pushed off that train of thought, and concentrated on Nancy's deeper breathing as she fell asleep. Her hand curled up on his ribs, absently petting him until it went slack. 

He was awash in Nancy Drew, her pretty self twice as attractive with every moment she proved she really did want justice. He supposed she'd technically faced Tiffany in a roundabout way during George's possession. Nick resisted dwelling on the confusion in the few words she'd managed to exchange with him. He used to get up and pace when he couldn't sleep, but he didn't want to leave Nancy's bed.

He shut his eyes and tried to drift with pleasantly trivial thoughts. Maybe he'd meet her for French toast and coffee at The Claw. They should have another date, this time without the detective tasks built-in. And he wasn't really bothered by Owen Marvin's million dollar smile. The guy had been her connection for an excavator, and he wasn't getting to sleep in her bed.

He nearly missed the noise at first. It could have been a curtain blowing except it was getting closer. There was a swish of fabric lightly disarranged by movement, then falling into place. He opened his eyes. Nancy's windows were framed by short drapes. They had closed windows and checked locks before going upstairs. The front door was too heavy for Bess to have let herself in without making a lot more noise.

Nick held his breath. He waited, and knew the sound was nearer with each repetition. He looked out the cracked door into the hall, but he couldn't see anything. It was creepy knowing they weren't alone. 

He blinked a few times, not sure he wanted to see what was approaching the bed with torturous slowness. Maybe he was dreaming now. Maybe he should be getting up and calling the police. 

But it felt too late for help. He couldn't leave Nancy and she was deeply asleep. His hearing strained to locate the noise before it happened, and he jumped when the bed dipped toward Nancy's side. She hadn't moved. He would have felt it more directly. 

Nick wanted to scoop her sleeping body up and run out of the room, but he was shocked. A ghost was sitting on the bed, and he didn't even know which ghost was most likely. If it was Tiffany seeking him out he didn't want to discourage her. He had nothing against Lucy. Nancy's mother had actually died downstairs. 

This town has too many ghosts, he thought irritably. He tipped his head and the lack of anything visible was a weirdly charged absence. Nancy's hair was fluffed up from her movements cuddling into her pillow. As he watched for something, he saw the strands lift in a golden bundle. It floated, flattened as if someone was easing fingers along it to smooth it before it was tucked behind her ear. 

"Holy shit." He hadn't meant to say anything, but holy shit. 

Nick was tensed up so badly he could feel his legs try to cramp. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't get Nancy up and away fast enough. His phone was useless. He was breathing roughly, trying not to panic.

The room was silent, and the nothingness was both a relief and a worry. He swallowed, and it was very inconvenient he was in boxers in an unfamiliar house. Everything had gone from bizarrely unbelievable to plausible. 

He didn't know how long he didn't dare move. Logic told him if a ghost made a noise of movement to come in, it would have to do the same when it left. The bed felt too heavy on Nancy's side, like the compression of an impossible weight. 

He let out a gasp as the mattress righted itself. Nick braced for what came next, but it was just more of nothing. The longer it dragged, the more he realized he was the source of his own dread. He was uneasy, but this was someone who cared about Nancy enough to gently stroke her hair. He wasn't sure about ghosts one way or the other, but he didn't feel like he was in a room with a threat he needed to fight.

He couldn't handle the silence. It felt right that Kate Drew might check on her daughter just the same as she'd done in life. It was kind of nice when he thought of it as a lingering connection to her mother.

"She'll be okay. I'm doing my best to look after her. She's brave. She thinks about other people and not about herself."

His words came out oddly certain. Nick was astonished at himself for making sense. His grasp of reality was getting a beating. He couldn't get any kind of reaction from anything, but after a few minutes the swishing noises took the same unseen path around the bed and away. 

It was too hot for blankets, but he sat up and yanked the sheet over himself and Nancy. He slipped his arms around her and curled them up facing one another. He needed a long time to calm down. She was peaceful, her chin tilted to fit against his neck. Holding her to sleep was already a habit, and the comfort of it quieted the jagged dissonance of his fear. 

She made sense breathing on his skin, enfolded to his chest and close so he could make her safe.


End file.
